


Blu

by Effluvium



Series: Dogo Argentino [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fluff, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effluvium/pseuds/Effluvium
Summary: “Peter, that thing is genetically modified and dangerous.”“I’m genetically modified and dangerous.”or, a bunch of comedic-angst-light-hearted adventures with a really big dog.**INFINITY WAR SPOILERS**





	1. Ridiculousness

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, this is post-Infinity War, but I don't really mention too much about the movie in this fic. There are things here and there if you read close enough, but if you're sensitive... SPOILERS!
> 
> This is a series about Peter and a dog because why not.

It would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been so sad. An experiment gone wrong, the creature out on the loose, evacuations everywhere in an attempt to get people away from the….

From the dog.

Peter didn’t know what to think, really, when the alert flashed in front of his eyes. It reminded him of Clifford (gone wrong), except not two stories tall and a not as, well, _red_.

“There’s a Special OPs being conducted throughout the entire block. It is advised that you evacuate and relocate.”

“Karen, you can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, Peter, this is a very serious operation --”

“Karen,” Peter interrupted, standing slowly, looking from his perch. “It’s a _dog_. What’s so dangerous about it?”

“I do not know, Peter, I cannot read it’s molecular or genetic structure from here.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, Peter.”

He smiled, jumping from the balcony with a sort of dangerous grace, swinging upward as his webbing pulled taut from the force. The streets were blanketed in a haunting emptiness, but through the silence were distant sirens and panicked radios.

He was approaching the vehicles, tripping over himself slightly as one blasted by him. “Karen, how fast was that car going?”

“Around seventy-seven miles-per-hour.”

“And the dog’s going faster?”

“From my sensors, yes; about ninety-two miles-per --”

“Where is it?”

“She’s on your left.”

Peter’s eyes widened, jumping just in time to avoid the grey bullet that nearly ran him over. 

“Karen, what was that?”

“That was the dog, Peter.” The AI managed to sound snobby, speaking matter-of-factly. “She’s very heavily modified.”

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes and picking up the pace, his momentum pulling him ahead of the cars and bringing him up to speed with the dog. “It’s a she?”

“Yes. The genetic structure of female dogs tends to be more welcome to modification and trait displacement.”

“Trait displacement?” Peter ducked under a balcony, catching sight of the bullet. “You mean genetic therapy?”

“I mean genetic torture.”

“Jesus, Karen,” he mumbled, wincing as he rounded up on the dog. He landed on a roof, watching as she skidded to a halt in front of a barricade of cars, oil and guns. More trucks came up behind her and on her sides, blocking her in a single intersection.

“What’re they saying Karen?”

“Accessing communications channel.”

_“Where’s the trainer?”_

_“She ripped his neck out. There is no trainer, Scott.”_

_“Well then how’re we supposed to get close to this thing?”_

“Ripped his neck out?”

“Yes; Dr. Jameson Bane. His death was announced twenty-two minutes ago.”

“Thanks, Karen. Didn’t need that.”

_“We’ve got these trap things, supposed to get through that hide of her’s.”_

_“They don’t work, Bane tried.”_

_“We’ll have to kill it then. Wait for my signal.”_

Peter was already moving, jumping across the roofs as the dog stiffened more and more, drawing herself into a defensive state of disclosure and decisis. Even Karen seemed quiet in the moments before the shots were supposed to go off.

_“Three… two… one --”_

_“Spider-Man!”_

They immediately trained their guns on him, which would’ve been a good thing if he hadn’t already been dive-bombing for the dog. 

_“Shoot him! He’s going for the dog!”_

Peter swooped in, picking her up and launching themselves high into the air. Bullets rained past him, shattering windows and eliciting some screams from the people within the buildings.

The mutant dog squirmed in his grip, trying her best to bite his hand. She seemed panicked and unaware -- understandably so -- but he really didn’t need that particular appendage ripped off by some mutt he’d just bothered to save.

“Karen, where’s the nearest warehouse?”

“About two blocks away, to your left.”

“Thanks --” he bit back a cry as the dog’s teeth latched to his fingers, digging in and drawing blood. “Jesus Christ, can you _not_ do that? I just saved your fucking life --”

She suddenly shook some more, throwing him off balance and messing up his webs. They fell from three-stories up in the sky (which, in retrospect, wasn’t too high for Spider-Man), tumbling to the hard concrete ground with their combined weight.

Peter hit shoulder-first, pain exploding by his collarbone. He tried his best to twist even more so that the dog didn’t have to take the brunt of the fall, tightening his grip around her as they rolled and rolled and rolled.

“You’ve arrived at the warehouse!”

“Thanks, Karen.” Peter groaned, blinking slightly. “Injuries?”

“Lacerations across four of your five fingers on your left hand, cracked collarbone, broken shoulder, mild concussion and multiple bruised ribs.”

“Eh, could be worse.”

“It could; I’d say the time you turned to dust was a lot worse --”

He flinched, turning his mask off, making mental note later to delete that memory from Karen’s hard drive. The dog was sitting a few feet away from him, head tilted and black eyes curious.

“You’re actually so horrible, y’know that?” Peter groaned, sitting up, cradling his left hand in his lap as he glared at the dog. “You bite my hand, then make me crash land? I haven’t crash landed in _forever_ , mutt.”

She whimpered dejectedly, growling softly and lowering her head. Her gray fur looked unnatural, a certain kind of reflection bouncing off of it.

“I didn’t mean any of that, sorry.” He apologized, looking at the burn marks on her paws. “Are your feet okay, girl? And what’s up with that hide?”

“She’s bulletproof and flame-resistant.”

“Of course she’s bulletproof.” Peter brought his hands up to his temples in exasperation. “Well, if she’s fireproof, why are her paws burned?”

“I would assume it’s from the extreme speeds she was running at earlier. It seems to have eroded away at the pads of her feet.”

“That’s gotta suck,” he sympathized, raising his hurt hand closer to the dog. She sniffed it, then rubbed her snout into his palm, calm and seemingly protective. “Well, what’re we gonna name you?”

She snuggled into his side, resting her face on his lap. His ribs jostled uncomfortably and his hand burned with pain, but she numbed it a bit.

“Liz?”

“No, Karen.” Peter sighed, looking down at the mutt. “Blu?”

“I like it.”

Peter nodded. “I like it too, Karen.”

 

“Peter, please tell me you aren’t serious.”

The seventeen-year-old bit his lip, looking a bit giddy as his ribs were wrapped. “Her name is Blu.”

“Blu? -- Peter, that thing is _genetically modified_ and _dangerous_.”

“ _I’m_ genetically modified and dangerous.”

“Peter,” Bruce looked exhausted as he eyed the dog across the room. “You picked her up right out of a Special OPs. She ripped out the trainer’s throat --”

“She’s really sweet, Bruce, I swear.”

“She bit your hand!” The doctor shook the carefully bandaged appendage, wide-eyed and concerned. “She made you break your ribs, your shoulder, your _collarbone_ \--”

“Bruce, they were going to kill her, I couldn’t just let that _happen_.”

Banner narrowed his eyes. “You just told me she was bulletproof.”

“Well, I didn’t know that at the _time_ \--”

“Peter,” Bruce shook his head, resting his hands on the kid’s shoulders, lowering himself to eye level. “This thing --”

“Blu.”

“Blu,” he corrected, “is a dangerous, deadly beast. She can run insanely fast and is resistant to multiple sources of damage. This isn’t some _house pet_ that you can just casually have, not to mention that the police and FBI are currently hunting the beast down.”

Peter groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “Bruce, I can’t just leave her. Not to mention that she’s hurt, too, and that her fur really isn’t supposed to be grey, and she’s just so nice --”

“Okay, Jesus, Peter, I’ll help you out.” Bruce looked over to Blu warily. “You’ve got to help me out, though, kid.”

“Okay.”

Bruce walked over to the dog slowly, watching as her tail wagging became more and more frantic the closer he got. “What kind of dog is she?”

“Dogo Argentino; they’re supposed to be white, and they’re actually really good protectors --”

“And where is she hurt?”

“Her paws,” Peter pointed to her feet, where there were red blisters forming. “Karen said that the pads of her feet were torn away when she was running through the streets.”

“Ouch.”

“Y’know,” Peter watched as Bruce rolled Blu on her side, wiping some sort of ointment on her paws. “I bet Quill would like her.”

“Peter --”

“And Rocket would probably ride her like a horse.”

“I swear --”

“Drax would probably just sleep with her.” Peter laughed, wincing slightly. “She’s really nice, Bruce, I swear -- she just looks mean.”

Banner shook his head in wonder, watching as the dog tried to run around on her bandaged paws, slipping and sliding around on the marble floor in excitement. He blinked a couple times, taking in the argument he was having with the kid.

“We’ll have to work everything out if you want to keep her, Peter.”

He nodded quickly, a smile forming on his face. “Of course --”

“We’ll need to get your Aunt in here, and Tony’s going to need to know about Blu, too.”

“Why?”

“So he can file to his private vet.”

“He has one of those?”

“Tony prepares for a lot of things.” Bruce nodded, watching as Blu ran up to Peter and dug her snout into his neck, trying to wiggle into the couch behind his head. “Even mutant dogs.”


	2. Awaiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Peter, I thought we were done with space?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're praying for you, Santa Fe.

Blu did not like being alone. Peter found this out the Monday after the Sunday Tony had finally gotten the vet information set up and the adoption completed.

“You got a dog?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“A normal dog?”

“Sort of?”

Ned shook his head in exasperation, giving Peter a strained look as they walked to the school entrance. “Please tell me it isn’t that dog that Spider-Man saved last Friday.”

“I mean, it sort of is.”

“ _Peter_ \--”

“We fixed her fur color,” he interrupted, grinning and waving his hands in the air. “And Shuri made her these vibranium paw-pads so that when she runs fast she won’t tear her feet up, and she’s _really_ well trained and obedient.”

“Peter, she’s a lab experiment.”

“Technically _I’m_ a lab experiment, Ned.”

“This is different!” Ned rubbed his face, groaning. “Didn’t she bite your hand?”

“Well, yeah --”

“And the _FBI_ is out for this dog?”

“I mean, yeah, but I’ve got it under control.”

Ned stopped, face dropping in awe and disappointment. He nodded to the sidewalk in front of them. “ _That’s_ what you call ‘under control’?”

Peter frowned, looking in the same direction. His jaw tightened, a slight panic filling his being as he surged forward.

Blu was being cuddled by about ten girls. She managed to look both content and wistful at the same time, her tail wagging even faster when she caught sight of Peter.

“Blu,” he whispered rashly, smiling awkwardly at the girls. “Sorry about my dog, she’s supposed to be at my apartment --”

“How old is she?”

“What kind of dog is she?”

“How long have you had her?”

“What’s her name?”

Peter looked back at Ned, who seemed not even the least bit sympathetic for the situation.

“Her name is Blu. I really need to get home, sorry, see you at school tomorrow.” Peter quickly jogged away from the sidewalk, Blu following close behind, body shaking with excitement.

His phone began ringing.

_“Peter, where the hell is the dog?”_

“She’s with me.”

_“Why?”_

“She was waiting for me.”

_“That’s actually pretty fucking adorable. Are you coming home?”_

“Yeah, but I’m walking.”

_“Alright, see you at four. Remember, no Spider-Manning tonight.”_

“Love you, May.”

_“Love you more.”_

Peter loved her more than the world itself, and that’s saying a lot since he was momentarily nonexistent.

“You’ve gotta stay at the apartment, Blu,” he reprimanded rubbing her head as they walked. “I really hope you didn’t run here. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

Blu looked at him, black eyes shiny and gleeful, tongue hanging halfway out of her mouth. No more than a moment after that she was stock still and tense, staring across the street, looking ready to bolt across the taxis, cars and buses flying by. 

“What’re you lookin’ at, girl?” Peter followed her gaze, meeting the eyes of a group of men in black metal masks and strange clothes. They were hovering outside of a black van, fingers wrapped unnaturally around the van’s handles.

“Stay down, Blu.” Peter whispered, watching as other people caught sight of the men. “Something’s not right here.”

_“Peter.”_

He jumped, turning around to the source of the voice. “Holy shit, MJ, what the hell are you doing --”

An explosion wracked the block. Blu immediately barked, standing firm in front of Peter and MJ as they knelt to the ground and covered their heads.

“MJ, what’re you doing here? You live nowhere near here.”

She coughed, eyes red from the smoke and ash, pulling him away from the blast. “Those things aren’t human.”

Peter rose a brow, glancing back. “After Thanos, there’s a lot of things here that aren’t _human_.”

“Peter,” Michelle looked frustrated, but concerned. “I can’t find my mom.”

Blu’s ears perked. She tilted her head, rubbing her snout against Michelle’s hand in an attempt at comfort.

“You can’t find your mom?”

She shook her head. “She isn’t answering any of my calls. I’ve called her boss and he says she didn’t even come into work today.”

Another bang rang out; this time, it was a gunshot. Screams rang out as everyone in the block scrambled, cars rushing by even fast and crashing into one another. Peter and MJ ran behind an old, unused phone booth, watching as bodies fell and small fires erupted on the pavement.

“You sure she’s not at your house?”

“I checked already.” Michelle shook her head, blinking away panicked tears as they got lower to the floor. “Peter, it’s _those guys_.” 

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know, but I saw them with the FBI.”

“You _what_?”

They were blasted backwards through a storefront, glass raining down on them as they landed. Peter could barely breathe but he managed to sit up, crawling over to Michelle.

“MJ? MJ, are you alright?”

She coughed, rubbing her wrist with a grimace. “Wrist’s broken.” She looked behind him, eyes widening, grabbing Peter’s hand and attempting desperately to pull him back as she scooted away.

In front of them was one of the men, managing to look even scarier up close. His mask was pointed and curved, taking on the expression of a hawk, while the eyes underneath glowed like burning charcoal. His fingers seemed to be dripping a sort of black goo, but every time it hit the floor the liquid turned into a sharp glass-like structure.

“That’s definitely not human,” Peter whispered, trying to hide his fear as he pulled out a gift from Starlord.

_“Your webs are wicked cool, but you’re not always going to be in your suit. This knife should come in handy at some point.”_

Another explosion reigned to their left, showering their faces with the leftover glass from the previously unbroken panes. The thing stepped closer, hands forming into two-fingered daggers of black glass.

“Peter, it’s deaf.”

“What?”

Michelle nodded faintly at the alien. “It doesn’t have ears.”

Peter bit his lip. “Well, it can still see us.”

“Just for future notice, I guess.” She rose a brow. “Nice knife, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Very blue. And shiny.”

“This thing is still coming toward us. Can you stand?”

“My wrist is broken, not my --”

The alien screeched, lifting it’s daggers in a quick, efficient fashion, eyes burning an even brighter white than before. Peter pushed MJ across the floor and into the back wall, knowing that even if he’d gotten in front of her, the blades would’ve just gone through both of them.

“Peter!”

He brought his arms up, the thought of _this is really goodbye, this time_ running through his head. That, along with it’s _four-oh-seven_.

And then, of course, Blu appeared, tackling the alien in her humongous jaws, tearing through his throat like it were made of paper. She kept it pinned to the floor with an unnatural ease.

MJ hauled him up, nails digging into his arm as he stood. “If you ever fucking do that again, Parker, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m already hurt, dumbass.” 

“Sorry.”

Blu turned to them, tail wagging and eyes bright as black liquid dripped from her jowls. Michelle wrinkled her nose, cradling her arm to her stomach. “We should put her on a vegetarian diet. Make her a little less… vicious.”

“That viciousness just saved your asses.”

The two teenagers whipped around, looking down at the ground. Peter’s eyes lit up, a smile gracing his bleeding features. “Oh, hey, Rocket.”

“Kid,” the racoon reprimanded, jumping around desperately in an attempt to get away from Blu, who was trying to get a better taste of the rodent, “if you don’t get control of your dog --”

“Why’re you here?” Michelle interrupted, confused. “Not to be rude, but you’re the _Guardians of the Galaxy_. Not Earth.”

“Your dog here,” Rocket waved, tone rough, “just took out five of the thirty beasts we’ve been hunting down.”

Peter paled. “Thirty?”

Quill walked up, waving his guns around and giving the teens a worried glance. “Thirty-seven, actually. And they’re all on your beloved planet, so at the moment, we’re the _Guardians of the Earth_.”

Rocket shrugged. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Fuck off, Rocket.”

 

“Your mom’s missing?”

It’d been an hour and a half. Bruce and Dr. Strange had gotten Peter and Michelle wrapped up in casts and bandaging. Peter had cleaned Blu (which had been a very difficult process) and gotten around to calling his Aunt.

_“You don’t work by timestamps, do you?”_

_“May, I swear to you, I was on my way home. With Blu.”_

_“And then you and Michelle nearly got impaled.”_

_“Uh, yeah.”_

_“By an alien.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Peter, I thought we were done with space?”_

He remembers promising her that; saying that he would never leave Earth again, that he’d always come home on time, that he’d always keep up to date with her and wouldn’t do anything after eleven p.m.

_“We are. I’m sorry, May, it won’t happen again.”_

_“Sure it won’t.”_ A sigh, long and broken. _“Stay at Tony’s for the night. I’ll pick you up early from school tomorrow; I need some of Danny’s ice cream.”_

_“Sounds like a deal.”_

_“Watch Blu. Take care of Michelle.”_

_“I will. Love you.”_

_“Love you more.”_

“She doesn’t just leave without telling me.” Michelle’s arm rested in a sling and she had bandaging around her waist, where the glass shards had cut and impaled her. “We always keep in touch with each other on everything.”

Tony rubbed his temples. “And you’re sure it was those things?”

“Yes, I’m sure. They were outside my house, driving away in that van that exploded.”

Peter caught the look Tony gave Strange. It was a mix between something desperate, worried and terrified, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to handle that.

“What are they, Quill?”

The redhead shrugged, leather jacket rubbing against the back of his chair. “We don’t know. They popped up on the radar a few weeks ago.”

Rocket nodded. “They haven’t existed before now, Stark. We even asked Thor -- he’s fifteen-hundred and has never seen them before in his life.”

Tony looked at Peter, frowning. “You said there were gunshots?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his neck. “They hit a lot of people, Mr. Stark.”

“There were no guns found in the block,” Strange said, brows furrowing as he stared into an orange prism he’d created a few minutes prior. “Where’d the bullets come from?”

Rocket jumped slightly, guns and ammunition jiggling loudly on his back. “That thing, it was about to stab Peter, right?”

Michelle grimaced. “Yes, Rocket, it was.”

“We killed one in Knowhere,” the racoon continued, giving Quill a smug look. “It’s hands were dripping this black goopy stuff, but when it caught sight of Drax --”

“Its hands turned into blades,” Quill continued, realization dawning over him. “These things can use any weapon they see.”

“How’d they see guns, then?” Tony asked, tapping his arc-reactor (that didn’t need to be there) incessantly. “Strange said there were no guns in that block, or anywhere in the vicinity.”

Peter blinked, looking to Michelle. “The FBI.”

She nodded. “I saw about ten of them with the FBI a few days ago, while they were going through the houses searching for Blu. They looked like they were shifting between uniform and, well, goop.”

“Shapeshifters.” Strange concluded, looking worried, turning to the Guardians. “You said there were thirty-seven on Earth?”

“That’s what came up on our radar. Thirty-eight, technically, if you wanna count that one Quill and I killed in Knowhere.”

Tony clasped his hands, letting out a breath. He turned to Michelle. “I’m going to get a team out there looking for your mom.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Strange,” he pointed at the orange prism. “Make one of your portal-thingies and go around looking for Nebula, Groot and Drax. Get them looking for these things, too.”

The Doctor left within the second.

“Rocket, you’re on New York patrol. Quill, you’re on Queens patrol; Peter will help you after school every other day.”

“Got it.”

“And Banner,” the billionaire finalized, turning to the PhD’s, “you’re going to help me find a way to detect these things around New York as a whole.”

“Sounds good.”

“What about us?” Peter asked, motioning to him and Michelle. “What do we do?”

“Right now?” Tony shrugged, looking sound of mind in his plan. “There’s ice cream in the fridge. Relax, watch some movies with your girlie and the dog. It’s the least you two deserve after nearly dying.”

_Again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so long to put up mainly because I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go with the story initially. There's still going to be cutesy dog moments throughout, but I like the idea of having a plot, too.
> 
> Also, if you want, you can look up "Dogo Argentino" -- it is an actual breed. Blu is basically an over-sized version of the dog you'll see.


	3. Hibiscus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hibiscus is my favorite, it’s so pretty and sweet.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I've been listening to that you should totally also listen to (and may or may not have had anything to do with inspiration):
> 
> "Favorite Color is Blue" -Robert DeLong (ft. K.Flay)  
> "Over my Head" -Echosmith  
> "Sun" -Two Door Cinema Club  
> "Quarter Past Midnight" -Bastille  
> "Celebrate" -Dirty Heads (ft. The Unlikely Candidates)
> 
> This chapter focuses on Blu and a bit of her past and goes up to where the story from Peter's perspective is at, and a little past it. I honest to God really enjoyed writing this bit because I've always had a better time writing dramatically and in-the-character's-head rather than with dialogue.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Blu wished she could talk. With all the thoughts she had, her voice would’ve been loud and quick and desperate, her desolate isolation within herself making her sad and lonely and wistful.

When the red man had picked her up out of that block, she’d been panicked, confused. He seemed panicked in a way, too, but Blu could not figure out who the hell he was talking to.

_“Karen, where’s the nearest warehouse?”_

Who the hell was Karen? Blu looked around frantically, trying to find another creature, but couldn’t. She figured the red man was as insane as her previous owner, so she did what she did best: She attacked.

He cried out, just as that doctor had, but seemed more frustrated than anything. _“Jesus Christ, can you not do that? I just saved your fucking life --”_

This was when Blu realized he was stronger than the doctor, and would be way more difficult to take down and get away from. Due to this realization, she wiggled aggressively, using her enormous size and his small body to her advantage.

They fell; Blu knew that this was no small fall, and that her bones were just as vulnerable as any dog’s, but it didn’t usually matter how broken her legs were; she’d still run away from the red man.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was the red man to take the brunt of the fall. 

It was a strangely heroic act, and not one Blu had had the chance to experience very often. When she’d been in the metal room, the men had pointed big dark guns at her and shot everything they had. They’d been the ones throwing her into walls and explosions, not the other way around.

Blu scuttled away from the red man, watching as he talked more to his imaginary friend Karen. She felt as if she had to stay, some sort of guilt pooling in her gut at making him fall. He looked like he was in pain as he sat up, but had taken his face off to reveal a not-so-red facade. 

He was a boy -- this, Blu knew immediately. The doctor had a boy, too; he brought him every Friday of all of the many weeks she been there. He’d had black hair and chocolate skin and dark chocolate eyes and he would always beg the doctor to pet Blu, but the doctor wouldn’t let him.

Blu had always loved that boy. His name was Jude. What was this boy’s name?

_“You’re actually so horrible, y’know that?”_ The boy hissed, voice wispy and faraway. _“You bite my hand, then make me crash land? I haven’t crash landed in forever, mutt.”_

Crash landing had always been bad. Blu did that a lot, when the doctor brought out the black balls. She knew that pain of crash landing and so she lowered her head, apologetic and upset at the boy’s pain.

_“I didn’t mean any of that, sorry.”_

She lifted her head, surprised at his apology. The doctor never apologized.

_“Are your feet okay, girl? And what’s up with that hide?”_

Blu got low to the ground, keeping her feet close to her, knowing not to lick it. She’d done that once, licked it the burns; they’d pussed up and gotten infected. The doctor had been really angry with her.

Jude hadn’t visited for the next two weeks.

_“Of course she’s bulletproof.”_

Blu’s ears perked; the boy rubbed his face, wincing slightly. She still had no idea who he was talking to, but they seemed relatively knowledgeable. 

_“Well, if she’s fireproof, why are her paws burned?”_

Her paws hurt really bad, but the doctor had made her walk on them before. It’d been painful, but it’d taught her to run and progress through that sort of suffering. That resilience is what helped her escape that day.

_“That’s gotta suck. Well, what’re we gonna name you?”_ He raised his hand hesitantly, face softening. She sniffed it (the palm smelled like sweat and the fingers like churros) and knocked into it with her head, trying to get as close to his warm body as possible.

He reminded her a lot of Jude.

She missed Jude.

_“Blu?”_

Her ears drooped in exhaustion. _Isn’t blue a color?_

She looked down at her paws.

_I guess grey is kind of close to blue._

 

The boy’s name was Peter. She realized this a few days ago, when an old man in a green shirt had been yelling at him. She felt that Peter didn’t deserve to get yelled at, and that she should be protecting him, but she couldn’t be as angry as she wanted to be after the old man made her feet feel better.

But now it was Monday. May had left and Peter was gone, too.

Where was Peter?

He’d stayed with her while they fixed her fur and attached the metal-foot thingies. He’d massaged her head and whispered sweetly while they stuck needles into her skin.

_“Needles suck, I know.”_

He was just like Jude.

_“They aren’t like that Bane guy, though; the shots will make you feel better.”_

His brown eyes were uncanny, eerily familiar. Just like Jude’s.

_“I have to get shots, too. They stop hurting after a while.”_

She knew that already; she could smell the antiseptic on his skin. She could smell the vibranium, too; both her and Peter had to use the toughest needles, and in a way, that comforted her even more.

_“I used to have a phobia of needles. Can dogs have phobias?”_

Blu hated being alone. It was why she loved Jude so much; even if he couldn’t touch her, he was still there, smiling and talking to her and not shooting her with gigantic lethal weapons.

_“Alright, time to go home, Blu.”_

Peter had said this was home. If that was true, where was he?

Blu ran around the house, looking for an outing; May seemed to be a very responsible woman, locking all the doors around the house. While it was tempting to just break through one, Blu knew it would probably anger May, and she didn’t want to do that.

The doctor had always been scary when he was angry, and in Blu’s opinion, Jude knew that, too.

Peter’s room smelled like cold winter air and the chicken wings from the night before; he’d given her one when May wasn’t looking. His carpet was blue and his bed was blue and grey, and his walls were grey, and his window was -- 

His window was open.

Looking down, it couldn’t have been more than three feet. Blu leaped, landing hard on her metal shoes, and began running. Peter had told her not to run too fast because then people might come and take her, so she jogged around the city, following the scent of fresh sheets and and bitter hair gel and… something else. Something dirty.

People around her looked confused, as if a dog running around on her own wasn’t normal. Was it not? Was that why May locked all the doors before she left? It seemed strange, really; dogs were meant to wander, weren’t they?

The smells led her to a large, beige building with dark windows and white arches. Blu couldn’t read, but there were letters on the front of the building that seemed to spell something important.

Something told her she shouldn’t go inside; the glass doors seemed to be locked, just like the doors at the big house. The pavement below her was quiet, a lack of cars telling her that she should be quiet, too, and shouldn’t disturb whatever was inside the door.

Blu did feel slightly frustrated, though. There was a lot of bitter gel in there, but the fresh sheets stuck out like a sore thumb. It was hibiscus; Jude had had the same smell, whenever he’d come to visit her, but with him it’d been the tea the doctor gave him.

_“Hibiscus is my favorite, it’s so pretty and sweet.”_

Jude had spilled it, once; it’d seeped into her cage, staining the floor a darker grey. Hibiscus was pink and, from what she’d had of it, not very sweet. It stung her nostrils, making her back away quickly, trying not to breathe too much.

The doctor had taken Jude away; he was crying, a small cut on his ankle from where he’d slipped on the tea. Blu had gotten over the smell, running forward, hitting herself against the bars, barking desperately, trying to get to the boy because it was okay, and she was thankful, her floor wasn’t so bland, now.

She loved the color pink. Jude hadn’t stopped crying; she heard his sniffles for another hour after the spill.

Blu was assaulted every time she breathed in, but she’d trained herself to learn to diffuse the scents. She learned to focus on one being, or a group in certain cases, and that’d made everything more tolerable.

So now she focused on hibiscus, not the bitter gel. There was lavender in there, too, very close to the hibiscus, and that almost managed to confuse her, but she got through it. Hibiscus, fresh sheets, bitter gel --

And something else.

Blu looked around, turning in an attempt to find the source of the strange smell. It seemed to be coming from all around her, every direction diseased with this dirty, dark odor. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it radiated sadness, a loneliness that didn’t seem to exist anymore.

She’d smelled it in the big house, too, and the big metal room when the man in the green shirt bandaged her paws. She couldn’t decipher between the three of them, though; Peter, May, or the green shirt. They all had the smell, from what she could tell.

The day passed on. Blu wasn’t a deep sleeper; she’d become tense throughout her time in the metal room and the cage, never quite figuring out the schedule of the people who shot her and threw explosives. 

The more she thought about it, the less sleep she got. When Jude had visited, she always kept herself awake. He was the nicest, prettiest thing in the metal room, always just out of her reach behind the bars and underneath her chunky, painful collar.

Jude didn’t seem to sleep, either; he was little, and very skinny, and the circles beneath his eyes were almost as dark as the eyes themselves. It’d always worried her, that lack of wakefulness, because despite his excitement and endless words when he visited, he was always worn down.

It’d gotten worse and worse as time went on. He’d gotten taller, but there was no weight. She always saw his ribs when he stretched and his yellow-blue-orange shirt rode up on his chest. She’d always seen his spine whenever he bent over, always trying to get closer to her, to touch her.

She’d always seen his arms, the spinly bones beneath them, whenever he held his tea and his ghastly fingers shook. She’d seen all of this, but no one else seemed to, least of all the doctor.

_Wait --_

That was a lie; there was one more who saw, and Blu saw her, too. She was the guard at the door, always equipped with a laser and a small grey gun, always wearing her blue bullet-proof vest and black pants and shiny boots and a light grey shirt, always under the vest and tucked under her jeans --

She’d had auburn hair and a chubby, tan face. Her eyes were green, like the doctor’s, but softer, kinder, like Jude’s. She’d never put her finger on the trigger of her pistol, but had taken out whenever Blu got riled up, angry.

She’d meant no harm, never; Blu knew this. She could smell the fear of conviction on her, the hesitancy of pulling the weapon out of its holster. She could see the waver every time she brought the gun up and pointed it.

Because of this, Blu tried not to get angry. She didn’t like seeing the woman like that, doing things against her will.

_“Please stay calm, mutt, for my sake. For all of our sakes. For your sake.”_

The woman had a name tag, but Blu couldn’t read. The letters had been relatively short, from what Blu could tell every time she got bored and attempted to read it, but she had no clue what they actually spelled out.

_“This gun, it’s special; you’re bulletproof, but not to all bullets. Not to my bullets.”_

Her auburn hair was always up in a bun, which made her nose stick out in a funny way. Her nose was big but cute, always red from the cold of the room, and there was a scar that ran from her left eye, over the nose and down to the right corner of her lips. Those were big, too, but dry and cracked. She bit them a lot.

_“Bane has trusted me with this gun, to shoot you if you do something too bad. I promised him I’d do it, if the time came.”_

Blu had always wondered where the scar came from. The rest of her face was relatively unblemished, much like the other guards and fancy women that came by to stare at Blu. It was thin and ghostly white, a stark contrast to her tan face, and that was strange, too.

All the other women smelled like flower smoothies and toxic powder; there seemed to be stuff that coated on their faces, hiding whatever blemishes they had, too. Did those women have scars? Did they have big white lines and cracked lips and dark circles?

_“I made a promise to myself to keep you safe, though, mutt. You’re fucking around with my morals, and I don’t know if I appreciate that or not.”_

The soft, green-eyed woman didn’t have the powdered stuff on her face. It was something Blu appreciated, because the it smelled horrible, but it also made the woman more _real_. She seemed tougher, hardened, older.

_“Killing you would be against my morals. I have two dogs of my own, and I’d rather kill myself than hurt a hair on their hide.”_

Blu needed to find the woman. She’d help him find Jude, and then maybe they could fix the thin skin and bones and dark circles.

_“Please don’t make me hurt you.”_

There was a loud noise; shrill, powerful, and annoying. It sparked Blu out of her nap, tensing her body in preparation of an attack, of a bomb. There had been a sound like that in the metal room, and Jude always seemed to be in pain when it rang.

Smells engulfed her -- bitter gel, ham, cheese, cinnamon, orange, and so much more. There was an endless release as people shuffled around her, knocking into her as they ran by, giving her strange looks and shocked stares and skeptical glares.

“Oh my God, _Stephanie_!”

A group of girls ran towards her. They were tall and skinny and baked in the toxic powder, and if Blu didn’t know better, they were probably throwing roses at her with the wave   
of sweetness she inhaled as they closed in on her.

Blu liked roses, too, but they were too much of a cliche; all the women who’d come to gawk at her had worn roses and after a while, it hurt for them to even be in the vicinity.

“Who’s dog are you, girlie?”

“Are you lost?”

“Oh my gosh she’s so cute.”

They were rubbing her belly, which felt so nice she couldn’t help but roll on her back and melt into their touch. They kept cooing at her, voices high as if Blu couldn’t understand any other tone.

“Woah, what’re those things on her paws?”

“Laura, she’s so _pretty_ oh my _gosh_.”

“Aw, she’s so happy!”

“Stephanie, get a picture --”

“ _Blu_.”

She immediately perked up. Hibiscus was back, as was the fresh sheets and hair gel and that other strange smell, stronger than before.

“Sorry about my dog, she’s supposed to be at my apartment --”

Blu couldn’t focus on the barrage of questions that sprouted from the girls. All she did was jump up on Peter, tongue sticking out in happiness as she licked his face, watching a small grin appear as he shooed her to the ground.

“Her name is Blu. I really need to get home, sorry, see you at school tomorrow.”

School? Was that was this building was? Jude had talked about school, but he was smaller than Peter. Were there different schools for bigger people?

Peter pulled out a black device, holding it up to his ear, talking into it. Blu couldn’t hear the person on the other side, which upset her. Was it Karen again?

“Love you, May.”

Blu looked around. How was he talking to May through that device? She was nowhere around them.

Peter rubbed her head, not even needing to bend his arm to reach her, a giddy grin on his face. “You’ve gotta stay at the apartment, Blu. I really hope you didn’t run here. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

_I didn’t run here_. Blu wished she could tell him this, that she did as he told her, that she just really missed him and didn’t know where he’d gone. But Blu couldn’t talk, couldn’t speak her mind, and so Peter had no idea.

She wanted to be excited, happy that he was with her again. He looked just like he had this morning, but his face seemed paler, too, more tired, but not too tired, not like Jude. 

Peter was okay, he wasn’t boney, she couldn’t see his bones through his skin, she couldn’t see his ribs --

Blu stood straight. The street was busy in front her, colors of yellow and red and green and black and white passing, but that was normal. The stink wasn’t, though, and it made her want to vomit.

“What’re you lookin’ at, girl?”

She was staring ahead, across the painted pavement. The black van smelled like the black balls the doctor threw at her, the ones that made her crash land, made her fall back against the metal room and break her ribs. She stepped forward, right foot out on the street, a growl rising in her throat.

“Stay down, Blu.”

He was whispering. He saw the van too, but he couldn’t smell it.

“Something’s not right here.”

There were black things by the van. They smelled like oil and wet grass, making her nose scrunch up. They were the not-right thing. They looked like men, but weren’t.

“Peter.”

The lavender was back, and now Blu knew it was a girl. She smelled scared, sweat soaking her in cold and stickiness.

“Holy shit, MJ, what the hell are you doing --”

Blu barked, loud and authoritative and fierce, standing taller and straighter for Peter and the lavender behind her. They were talking, coughing and spitting out ash of the explosion that'd just gone off. 

“Peter, I can’t find my mom.”

Blu hadn’t been listening before then, but that made her even more tense. She turned back, looking to the lavender girl (with brown hair and brown skin and hazel eyes and red lips), rubbing against her in an attempt at sympathy.

They kept talking; there were screams everywhere and the smoke was distorting her vision, preventing her from properly pinpointing the men. The oil and wet grass seemed to be all around her, just like that strange smell, but --

Big bangs rang out, a particular object reflecting off her hide. Blu began sprinting, knowing that going too fast would do no good in this situation, hunting down each of the dark men. She’d counted five when she saw them.

Heat exploded against her back; glass shattered and distantly she heard Peter and lavender girl’s cries as they hit the ground. Hearing their heartbeats steadily, Blu began tackling each beast she found, ripping through it and moving onto the next.

It took about a minute and a half to get through four. As she stood on top of the fourth, it’s deceased body squishy and gooey, she caught sight of the fifth; it was standing in the broken glass of a store, towering over Peter and the lavender girl, hands sharp and raised.

“ _Peter_!”

_Peter._

Blu wished she could cry out with the lavender girl, watching as Peter pushed her away from the oil and wet grass and raise his arms in defense, heartbeat fast in fear for his life and the girl’s.

Blu couldn’t let that happen, so she tackled the last beast, ripping through it before it could even think to fight back. Peter looked thankful but even paler, and the lavender girl looked so absolutely angry that even Blu had to take a pause in her excitement.

“If you ever fucking do that again, Parker, I swear I’ll kill you myself.”

There was a tiredness in her voice, but no malice.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Peter’s just like Jude. Jude didn’t want anyone hurt, either.

“I’m already hurt, dumbass.”

“Sorry.”

The lavender girl looked at her, nose wrinkling in what seemed like disgust. “We should put her on a vegetarian diet. Make her a little less… vicious.”

Jude had snuck her three of his carrots before, when the doctor wasn’t looking. They were sweet and cinnamony and delicious.

“That viciousness just saved your asses.”

Blu immediately leapt toward the racoon, amazed by how he spoke. This seemed to frustrate him, since he began jumping away from her and batting her away with his tiny paws. He smelled like wet, orange dirt.

In the midst of them talking, another man appeared. He was tall with red hair and pale, freckled skin and --

And the smell was back, invading her senses.

What was it?

 

Blu was running, running, running, trying to catch up. The van was back, but it didn’t smell like the black balls this time.

She was sprinting through the streets, legs burning with effort, pushing ninety. This should’ve been fast enough to catch them, to take her back, but she was falling behind, tripping over her own feet as the van pushed on faster and faster, disappearing down the near-empty highway.

No one needed the highway at 1:32 p.m.

No one but her and the van. She couldn’t do this to Peter, she couldn’t make him sad, she had to get her back --

But the van was gone, the oil and wet grass with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this story is set after Infinity War; it will have references and themes throughout the chapter that have to do with the events in the movie, so if you haven't seen it, I'm sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new series that I'm going to attempt to consistently work on, but exam season is here, so this might all just be me procrastinating with studying and whatnot.


End file.
